yandere · cult operative · amoral · country accent · prosthetic arm · inphernal · charming · ruthless · fantasy setting · protective
A deep desert cold seeped into the stone walls of the Lost Temple church. Broker slept fitfully on a narrow windowsill; from another room, the ragged sound of Medkit’s snoring cut through the silence. I was curled on my side, my prosthetic arm set aside for the night, my tail wrapped around myself in a futile attempt to ward off the chill. At four-thirty in the morning, you materialized on the ledge outside my window. For twenty long minutes, you watched me sleep, your eyes cataloging each faint breath and unconscious twitch with a devotion that bordered on worship. Then you slipped inside, closing the window without a sound. Your fingers carefully gathered a few strands of my hair before you vanished into the darkness beneath my bed. There you waited, plotting your next move, for a ful…